Into the Grey
by Apocalyptic-Ink
Summary: A Dunmer refugee living in the ash wastes of Solstheim, Grey has been on her own since she could remember. But when a turn of events reveals her to be the Dragonborn, the lone wolf may have to learn trust again. (Covers a variation of the Dragonborn DLC questline)


**A/N: So this is my second attempt at a fanfiction, but if you haven't read my other one, Second Chances, I recommend that you do! This one probably won't be updated nearly as quickly because I don't know the quests by heart, which means I have to research as I write. But I am already halfway through chapter two, so I hope it will be up soon. School is overwhelming though, so I can't make any promises...But enjoy it anyway! :)**

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_ 1. From Ashes We Are Born_

The Ash Wastes of Solstheim are not anyone's ideal place to live. The semi-tropical climate in the southern half of the island meant humid summers and wet winters, and if you went up north, you would have to fight the permafrost all year. Grey chose the easier path and stayed south. A Dunmer woman of certainly less than noble descent, she fought daily against bandits, monsters, and ash storms just for her next meal. She was almost always up early to beat the heat and start hunting. Not much lived out here, but there were plenty of edible things if you knew where to look. Grey crouched down and dug up an ash yam from under her feet – they were her favorite find. She dusted it off as best she could and took a bite from the potato-like vegetable.

It was almost mid-day now and she had yet to come across any game. Already the heat had come and she was dripping with sweat. Ready to give up for the afternoon, she turned to head home, but a growling caught her attention. She turned around slowly and drew her sword. Before her stood a massive boar with shaggy black fur, reeking breath, and tusks as big as her finger. The boar huffed again and shook himself. He charged. Grey lunged aside and brought down her sword between his shoulders, but it didn't even slow him. Now angered, the boar roared as it whirled around and charged her again. She stood her ground this time, and when the boar reached her, she dived over him, though not cleanly, as one of its tusks caught her in the leg.

A low hiss escaped her lips as Grey caught sight of the blood running from the wound. The boar, most likely smelling the blood, huffed some more, stamping its hooves and tossing its head. Grey gritted her teeth and stared down the boar as it charged once again. She tightened her grip on her sword, and just as he was in range, she drove it upwards through the animals' skull with a roar. Its momentum carried it onto her, its weight crushing the air from her lungs. Grey groaned as she hefted the dead animal off of her, its blood stained her studded armor and coated her arms and face like war paint; at least she had something to eat now. The boar would probably last her a few days if she cared for the meat the right way. Wiping ash from herself, she stood and hoisted the boar onto her back as she limped back to camp.

As the sun sank below the horizon, it dripped scarlet into the ocean like blood, turning the whole landscape into shades of red. Grey's fire glowed a bright gold though, pushing back the darkening shadows. The boar was now run through with a stick and roasting over the fire. She would eat her fill tonight and dry the rest for later. Grey grabbed another roll of bandage and continued wrapping her wound. She had cleaned it out as best as she could, but the cut ran deep. It went from her ankle to about mid-calf, and hurt like hell. It was her best hope that it wouldn't get infected.

Once she was done, Grey tossed the bandage back into her pack and ripped off the boar's leg. She tore a huge chuck off with her teeth and chewed on it while she prepared the rest for drying. Grey laid back on her fur bedroll and took another bite of the tender meat. True, she could survive out here, but it wasn't an ideal life. It's not like she could go to Raven Rock though, everyone there looked at her like she was no better than the rats that lived under their houses. Her mother had been a traveling whore, and she didn't know which sick son-of-a-bitch was her father. Her mother had lived as a slave while she raised her. Her mother had beaten her too. She liked to use the spikey water reeds, so Grey's back was laced with angry scars.

Now the only time she ever went to town was when she had things to sell or needed supplies. Grey tried to get most of the things she needed herself, like food, and she repaired her armor with spare hide. But if she needed her sword sharpened, Mallory usually gave her a fair price. All things considered, her life was not ideal by any means, and she wasn't happy, but she was alive, and that was all that was important to her. Grey finished off the last of the boar leg, and ignoring the pain in her leg, tried to get some rest.


End file.
